The Scandal (Billionaire's Beach Book 4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,63
used the other hand to angle her face toward his. Their mouths met.
This is how to forget about everything but the now. Maybe Mick is on to something. Distraction via a woman. Diversion via sex.
“We should do it in a closet,” he said against her mouth.
She lifted her lips from his. “What?”
“Wouldn’t you like that? Having sex somewhere where it smells of laundry soap and starch?”
Her eyes narrowed, but she was smiling. “You’re strange, you know that?”
He laughed and bussed her once more on that curving mouth. “And strangely feeling pretty damn good.” With Sara in his arms, the clouds on his horizon had retreated once more.
Then she leaped to her feet, her expression closing down. Smoothing out the skirt of her apron, she glanced over his shoulder, then back at Joaquin. “Company,” she said.
“Lulu and RJ?” he asked, turning. Then he froze as his sister came onto the deck followed by a middle-aged couple.
Wary, he slowly stood. “Renata. Martin.”
His mother swept up and delivered a lavish embrace. Stepping back, he noticed she looked as lovely as always, her hair shining, her make-up perfect. Joaquin turned to Martin and shook the older man’s hand. He had a golfer’s deep tan, but other than that his features were unremarkable.
The guy was a genius at making money, though, which kept his wife happy.
“Can I bring anyone coffee or tea?” Sara asked in her smooth butler voice.
Joaquin introduced her to the newcomers. She kept her distance, nodding politely, then headed off to the kitchen when the married couple said a cup of coffee would be welcome.
“This is quite the place,” Renata said, placing one manicured hand on the deck railing as she looked about. “George did all this?”
“He bought the property some years ago, but it was really Sara who brought it to life in the last few months.” The woman in question returned, carrying a tray that she set on the nearby table. It included a plate of tiny shortbread cookies.
“Please. Sit down,” Joaquin said, indicating the chairs.
Sara passed over the two coffees and set sweeteners and cream nearby. Then she drifted back toward the kitchen. Joaquin watched her go and saw the swift glance she sent him over her shoulder.
He didn’t know exactly what she meant to communicate, but he felt it like the squeeze of her hand in his.
“So, Renata,” he said, turning to the older woman. “Back from Mexico earlier than planned?”
“We missed Essie,” she said, sending her daughter a fond look.
The teenager didn’t appear as pleased. Without comment, her attention returned to her phone.
Renata released a tiny sigh and glanced at her husband. Martin patted his wife’s fingers but addressed the girl. “Essie, sweets, you know our rule is no phone at the table.”
Joaquin wished he’d known that. He’d been thinking of asking Sara to set it a place at every meal. But his sister obeyed the edict, slipping the device into her pocket with a small grimace.
“Sorry, Daddy.” Then she directed her attention to her mother. “Does this mean I have to go back to our house now? I was supposed to have more time with Joaquin. I’d like to stay.”
It gratified him to hear that, it really did, though it might be her devotion to her phone that prompted the request.
“Well…” Renata turned her gaze on him.
He shrugged. “It’s fine with me. I enjoy her company.”
“Then maybe you wouldn’t mind some more,” his mother ventured. “The Bel-Air house is being painted, and it would be lovely to spend a few days with you here at the beach.”
As the family group continued to converse on the deck, Sara headed upstairs to check that the largest of the free guest rooms was properly prepared. She carried with her a pair of small crystal vases in which she’d arranged some hastily gathered flowers.
One container she set on the bureau and the other on the small writing desk beneath the window. Clean towels hung from the rods in the bathroom. The sheets on the bed were freshly laundered as well, so she only gave a plump to the pillows and then took a peek in the closet. Empty, but with plenty of hangers.
Soon she’d bring the Nichols’s bags into the house, and if they agreed, unpack for the pair.
Their arrival had knocked some timely sense into her head.
Allowing Joaquin into her bed the night before had been a big blunder on her part. After that moment when she’d imagined herself in love with him following the get-together at Charlie’s, Sara